RANDOM

So this supposedly brings out suppressed emotions, does it?

I'm not really sure where the affection came from. I suppose I'm somewhat lonely, but not really. I am perfectly fine.

It's just that it felt nice, and I wanted more.

I don't know. Maybe that is loneliness? I'm not really sure.

Author's Note:

BAAAAAH. I think I should stop now. I can't hold my thread of thought long enough to make long drabbles; PLUS my typing SUCKS right now. >_<

A/N: Okay, I know. I know. I'm ignoring my previous author note, but a really good drabble idea attacked me. xD

RANDOM - Getting to Know You

First impressions can be misleading. When I first met you, my very first thought was "lkewjfoidknewfPRETTYHAIR." Well, that was when I first saw you, to be exact. My true first impression was that you were a cool guy from that other crowd. I probably wouldn't get to talk to you in ordinary circumstances just because appearances and circles would keep us apart.

So I stayed away from you. Well, I didn't avoid you. I simply didn't spend much time with you. I never really talked to you. But of course, it was inevitable and we found that we had a common ground far larger than I expected.

I don't know if you're simply doing this because you think me too shy to reach out to you--which is true, but I despise that tactic--or if this is the genuine you.

Perhaps I'm simply over analyzing. I probably think too much for my own good. This really could be nothing.

I should probably hope for it to be nothing.

Besides, it can't be anything. He has a girlfriend. His girlfriend is my close friend.

...And those same words come back to haunt me yet again.

Yes, we could have a problem, although we don't yet. I obviously don't learn from my mistakes.

suppressed emotions, maybe we are just the same type, not a happy one, not a sad one, but a affection it one, like those weird ones you read in doujinchi's where party and then, yeah weird awkwardness. It is a common scene I guess. Ok, I should write more later, i am writing more now....than the past few weeks

@dragon
It would be hilarious if we actually met a person like Sano from Hana Kimi--he gets drunk, kisses someone randomly, and passes out. xD

Well, I think I'm happy/affectionate, but then I think I'm just normally happy most of the time. Whatever. ^^;

RANDOM - Morals

I suppose I'm not the good girl that I thought I was. In ways I still am, but I'm not as well moralled as I thought.

I think I was the "good girl" simply because I wasn't exposed to any of the bad. I grew up in that nice little bubble that was my Christian high school. There was no drinking, only two dances, and nothing more. And it being my primary place where I hung out with my friends, I never ran across more.

Now I've left that bubble. Believe me, it's not that I'm mad at the bubble. I knew it existed, but there wasn't much I could do about it then. All I knew was that I wouldn't stay in it for the rest of my life.

There should be an actual choice in the matter. One can't say she's good just because she's never had the chance to dance over the fine line.

One is good because she chooses to be, but what is one before she has made that choice?

But I have learned that holding morals requires testing--temptation. Without that, they are just pretty words we spout.

I wish I could reply, but I already did about this topic. Maybe i will do another one, I can't write the exact same thing twice right?

RANDOM - Units of Measurement

Is a day really so long?

When it seems like a moment lasts an hour and each breath seems to expand in the space of forever, is it really so long?

It's really just a one time thing--the sun rises and the sun sets. A day is short. A day is small.

However, a day is filled with seconds, minutes, hours, and those long gaping periods that span forever and a day. If it is by those measures, then yes, the day is really so long.

RANDOM - Oh these ironies...

This should be gone by now. There should not be a tearing hole right here.

These feelings should have been processed, dissolved, and evacuated.

But alas, feelings are not like drinks. Though the drink may have caused it to stir, the feeling may choose to linger long after the drink is gone.

In a way it's sobering. It makes one be very honest. Perhaps too honest at times. It makes one realize things, see things in a different light, notice patterns. It's ironic how sobering it is.

It should confuse and befuddle, not enlighten. Yet it does both, and in its strange way it reveals what we did not see before. This thing, this drink, is such an irony.

Author's Note:

On the topic of recent drabbles...

I've begun to notice that all my drabbles now focus on one topic recently--drinking.

Perhaps it's because it's a new thing. It's this strange experience that was so eye opening. I now truly understand.

Before I would hear allusions to being drunk off of something, losing control, feeling euphoria; I understood, but I never really knew. My understanding was only to a certain degree that can be attained by definitions of words. I had never actually experienced it.

And suddenly, all of those analogies, all of those allusions, they all make sense. They have come into a much clearer light. I know what that euphoria feels like; I've lost control; I was drunk off the feeling of simply feeling close to someone.

It's this floating feeling that's nice to sit in, but you will always want more. You know you have to stop, but you think you can take just a little more; it won't hurt; you're still in control; you can still think.

And then all of a sudden, you can't.

It's a gradual thing. It's like your body and mind seem to separate but not really. And it's because of that not really that you feel like you're still in control.

But then someone pushes you over the edge, and you suddenly find yourself lost. You know what's happening, but you don't know why, and you can't stop because it feels so nice...

And you now know how easily this can lead to trouble. In ways, it already has. However, you're happy. For once, you finally do truly understand. This is something new. This is something to conquer and learn about. It's an experience. It isn't quite an addiction, but it was nice and ever so satisfying.

...You wouldn't mind doing it again.

RANDOM - A moth to light

Perhaps it's not truly an affection I feel. It is more of an attraction--a moth to a light. I cannot help but gaze and want to know no matter how it will burn me.

It's an obsession that I just can't ignore. There is something there in that light. There is something behind that glass exterior burning within, casting shadows. I must discover it.

And the light is beautiful.

Even if it is something I should not love, I cannot help it. I will be burned. I will walk through the fire to learn. There are things worth more than unblemished wings.

And it will hurt. Oh, it will hurt.

I know it will whether I walk the fire or fall away to the bitter stinging cold. Either way there will be pain. Yet I cannot help myself. It is too late to back away. I've already felt the warmth of the light. It has enchanted me, seduced me.

And who am I to resist?

RANDOM

This Love

This is blind devotion.
I will love you
No matter what,
No matter why,
No matter who.

This is mad obsession.
I will know you
No matter how,
No matter when,
No matter where.

I will follow you
Forever,
Until the end of time.

I don't care about the reasons.
They don't matter to me.

It is you.
Only you.

RANDOM - Response to This Love (previous drabble)

You are pathetic. You say you care for me, and only me. Yet, you do not care for anything about me. You don't care about my past. What it I had committed a grave crime that was unforgivable? What if I were to be secretly plotting your death because I loathed you so? What then?

Do not say that you would simply forgive me and love me. Forgiveness takes understanding. By knowing nothing, you can give me neither.

You say you care, but you truly don't.

Your devotion is so blind that you cannot even see the person in front of you. You are in love with an image, a specter. So mad is your obsession that it is not real.

It was never me.

It was always you. You focus upon yourself--your love--not the object of your affection. You don't love it. You love the way you love it.

You never loved me in the first place. Never.

RANDOM

It's times like this I miss you. I miss your warmth. I miss the feeling of you at my side.

There's a very primal part in all of us, whether we want to admit it or not. It's the very base intrinsic instinct in us to seek warmth.

Right here right now, drunk or not, that instinct is enough to lure me to your arms.

But you're not here.

And so I am estranged. I am left in want without your touch--not even your love. I do not even ask for that. What I ask for is simple and small. Just to be held and feel that safe feeling. That is all.

But alas. That is impossible, and I must simply do without.

RANDOM - The Audience

This was mine. Only mine.

I had other things before--things hidden in the corner of my room, under my bed. Those things were also mine, solely mine, completely untouched by anyone else.

Yet I yearned for them to be known. It wasn't something I could simply parade about. One would be a fool to wear his heart upon his sleeve. However, one could open his coat and allow it to be glimpsed by the strangers on the street.

In this way, he could gain an audience of spectators to dazzle with his nonsensical notions. And then the audience would go home and leave him alone. He was safe from them.

RANDOM - Muses

It seems I have found you again, my love, my light, my life--my inspiration--my muse.

You have wandered far from me, yet you finally came back. And although you do not look the same, you are still mine. The experience has changed you. You are no longer as you once were. Yet, the fact remains that you are beautiful and still have the ability to call to my soul.

Or perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps I have abandoned you, my first love, for another. For one can have more than one muse, more than one lover. It may not be recommended, but at this point I would say the first is no longer. He has been forgotten. He can't lay claim to me.

Well, he could, but he is oh so far away that I've found myself in need of another. A replacement, if you must. I cannot simply live on the memory of the old for the rest of my life without even a glimpse each season. It's agony. I must court another. It's the only way.

And perhaps it's unhealthy that you two actually exist, but that's the beauty of it. There will always be something. You both live and breathe and change and will never cease. Your earthly visages take on new faces in my mind and you two walk the strange scape I paint. You are both masters and slaves to me.

Oh my muses, how I adore thee.

RANDOM - The Simplest Drug

Alcohol is the only thing that's intoxicating. There are many drugs that one can subdue with. The simplest of all is touch.

It is something that we all intrinsically crave. We need it. If you were to lock a child into a room and never touch it and hold it, but care for it in every other way, it would die. It such a basic part of us that we often don't even realize it.

And because we have striven to make ourselves so high and mighty and superior, we have abandoned those vital things. They are frowned upon, seen as unseemly and improper. And so we have created these aching voids in our hearts. It was something vital, and we denied ourselves of it.

So now it is like a drug. It brings out the savage, the primal creature that yearns for it. Once you've had it, you know again how very vital it was. It is like flying. It is that new dimension that you suddenly can't live without.

Yes, it is physically possible, but you don't want to. Every moment is sheer agony now that you know what more there is. Everything becomes dull and faded. It's not enough. What you took for granted is suddenly necessary.

RANDOM - What is it?

It's almost like love. It shares those same mad, obsessive traits. It shares that crazy yearning. It is also entirely illogical.

But then it's not.

There is something very vital missing from it to call it love. There are many of the same ideas within it, but there's something difference about the essence in it. It just isn't the same.

I'm not quite sure what to call it.

RANDOM - The Game of Love Part II (I don't remember what part I was on last time, so let's just pretend that this is two. xD)

Get out. You are too welcome here, but you shouldn't be. I want you to leave, but I really don't. I want it all back, but not in the same way.

It should be a fair trade--my heart for yours. But of course, like any other game, the game of love is never fair.

And it's times like this that I just want to give up on the game. And it's times like this that I just want to throw all I own into the the pot.

But I don't do either. I chicken out either way. I play the game half heartedly, only bearing half my soul. One can never win this way, but neither can one lose. It's a mockery of the game. It's the loophole. Yes, I cheat, but it gets me nowhere.

You either win it all or lose it all, and that's the way it's supposed to work. Playing as I do--one simply shouldn't play at all. There is nothing sure about gambling. If one isn't willing to give up everything, there won't be a big enough win. How can one give so little and expect so much back?

It doesn't work that way.

RANDOM - The Game of Love Part III

But the trade of love isn't so simple. Even if you throw your whole soul in the pot, there's no guarantee another will be given back to fill that pathetic void you created.

And then sometimes you will get someone else's heart without knowing. And how then can you reciprocate? What if they play the same game as I, that half show? How then to react? You're not sure if the half show is actually serious, is genuinely interested but simply too chicken. What if the half show is simply playing?

There are no certainties in this game. No rules. Some may wonder how it can even be a game like this.

Well, you win some and you lose some.

That makes it a game.

RANDOM - The Game of Love Part III

But does it really have to be played like a game?

There are those who will constantly deny that it is a game by saying it's cruel to "play" with love. Yes, toying with one's affections is cruel, but that's the way it is. We test; we tempt. We try to be as sure as possible of their feelings and our own that we must be cruel. Wouldn't it be crueler to simply dive in, give everything, and then snatch it away?

Some say it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.

I agree that love is this strange wonderful experience that would be crazy to live without. However, once you've loved, you've flown. There's this whole new dimension to the world. You're used to looking at it from wing. And then you've been grounded. Wouldn't you miss flying?

It would be sheer agony to fall. And then you may fall too far and have to learn to walk again. Wouldn't that be too painful?

Of course. one could be the optimistic and say that it's a whole new adventure and yada ya, but not all look at it that way.

It hurts to fall. It's unbelievable to look up at the sky and know you used to be there but can't anymore.

RANDOM - The Game of Love Part IV

One could counter that argument with the saying ignorance is bliss.

If one has never known of it, how can he miss it?

But that is not true. Such a saying is a lie.

Just as the blind man yearns for sight, one yearns for love. Although they have never known of it before, even though all they know of it are accounts from other people, they know it exists. In their very soul they know that something is missing.

And instead of being in bliss, the ignorance drives them mad. They want to know. They must. They would give just about anything...

But then they deem it impossible and settle back down, accepting that aching gaping void. But they can never truly settle. Something is gone, and they know it.

RANDOM - The Game of Love Part V

And so they will play the game too, perhaps unwittingly. They do not know that they play, but they play nonetheless. They have entered the game but have simply put nothing in the pot.

Instead, they watch with their eyes hungry. They are almost spectators, but these are the sort of spectators that envy the performers. They wish they could jump into the ring and dance just as well. It isn't that hard, really. They could probably steal the show if they actually jumped. However, none do. They simply sit there, cherishing that notion. It is not something they really want. The simple knowledge of it is enough.

In a way it could be considered ingenious. In a way it could be considered pathetic.

RANDOM - The Artist and Her Muse Part I

It's too late.

I'm yours wholly and completely even though you do not know it. It is the way an artist's love works. It's not actual love, but it's its own thing.

The artist falls in love with her muse and she is lost. Once she finds that muse, she cannot be shaken. The only thing that could possibly pry her grip lose is a circumstance out of her control. And even then it would be painful. She would still cling to him. She does not want to forget her muse, her love.

But she will leave him if she must. After all, he isn't her lover.

And in time she will find another to take his place. And only then will the must be replaced. However, she still remembers him. It will only take the slightest prodding to conjure him in her mind, so strong is the bond between artist and muse.

RANDOM - The Artist and Her Muse Part II

She thought it was a good thing that he became her muse. It made things less complicated. She couldn't look at him romantically because it wouldn't be proper. However, she couldn't help but look at him in a romantic light.

And so she separated herself from the beautiful scenery. Some say she is the creator, the dreamer. However, she longs to be the dream. She's an outsider. She can dream of many things, but they are simply dreams.

Of course, the dream would say otherwise. The dream truly has no control over itself but is molded and likened to the artist's desire. The dream would like to have that choice for once.

However, this artist doesn't simply paint a dream; she paints a dream touched reality. The dream does not have to yearn--it is real. And in this case, it truly is the artist whom is estranged.